Charles Bushman: Karl, who'd you kill? Was it the boy? Karl: Don't you say another word about that boy. Fact'o business, don't you say another word to me. I ain't listening to you no more.
Dr. Jerry Woolridge: You sleep with your mama tonight. I'm gonna sleep with your brother so Karl can have your room. Daughter: Why? Dr. Jerry Woolridge: 'Cause he's company.
Gaff: You've done a man's job, sir. I guess you're through, huh? Deckard: Finished. [Gaff throws Deckard his gun] Gaff: It's too bad she won't live! But then again, who does?
Batty: [taunting Deckard with a counting rhyme] Six! Seven! Go to Hell or go to Heaven! Deckard: [Deckard smashes an iron rod against Batty's head] Go to Hell! Batty: [grabbing the iron rod] GOOD! THAT'S THE SPIRIT!
They fought because they loved the dance, and the weight of a sword in their hands. The clash and spark of metal and hiss of flame was like music written just for them. They fought for glory, but not for blood. They were Weirlind, heirs of the warrio...
I was afraid to watch 'Blade Runner' in the theater because I was afraid the movie would be better than what I myself had been able to imagine. In a way, I was right to be afraid, because even the first few minutes were better.
The Anne Rice books are a lot about infection. I read "Interview With the Vampire" a million times when I was in seventh and eighth grade. Also, [writing Gavriel's backstory] definitely came from those books: I sat down and reread them all and though...
I am not "cured"--I know I never will be. I will always crave that pain to keep me centered. I will always be just a little astounded when I get through a crisis without putting a blade to my flesh.
You and I, in our quest for truth, must set ourselves on a higher level. If the worldly reasoner is like a butcher, we wish not to be found like them - minus fingers or thumbs. Spiritual reasoning can be a very sharp blade; it behooves us, then, to �...
And he gave it for his opinion, "that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole...
You named your sword Fire? Fire? What kind of a boring name is that? You might as well name your sword 'Blazing Blade' and be done with it. Fire indeed. Humph. Wouldn't you rather have a sword called Sheepbiter or Chrysanthemum Cleaver or something e...
The chaos and the confusion of all possible outcomes penetrated every pixel of computer generated light, and the waves of all sub-existential normality flooded by, creating an atmosphere of peaceful eventuality. I felt that a gradual restoration was ...
The capacity for personal freedom is a rare talent. Talent exists to be used. We do not ask sheep to be wolves; we, the wolves, do not ask ourselves to be sheep. Sheep can make such rules as happen to suit them--but it's foolishly naive to expect wol...
Sam's hand brushed her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin as he brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, "You look beautiful. Though I bet you already know that." She most certainly did.
While Dmitri, as the leader of Raphael’s Seven, could not accept such a weakness, the mortal he’d once been, the one who had loved a woman with a wide mouth and eyes of slanted brown . . . that man understood what it was to love so deeply it was ...
What killed people wasn't a bullet, a blade, a fist to the face. What killed people was a feeling. Left too long. Sometimes in the cold, frozen. Sometimes buried and fetid. And sometimes on the shores of a lake, isolated. Left to grow old, and odd.
Darius began to walk away, but as if he thought better of it, turned back to face Wharick. He stared into the Gwardian's eyes for a moment and then spoke quietly. "If ever a blade comes that close to my neck brother, the only debt you owe me is to ma...
What we end up calling history is a kind of knife, slicing down through time. A few people are hard enough to bend its edge. But most won't even stand close to the blade. I'm one of those. We don't bend anything.
Mimicque—zombies—can only be killed with an iron or obsidian blade, so don't think you can just act like the wrestler El Santo in the 1970s film . If a walking undead is after you, run. Let the experts take care of the zombies.
all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
A witty vicar once said that a good marriage is like a pair of scissors with the couple inseparable joined, often moving in opposite directions, yet always destroying anyone who comes between them. The trick is for the blades to learn to work smoothl...
